


Reverence

by vix_spes



Category: Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Body Worship, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, Nearly Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Post Battle of Badon Hill, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 14:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: After nearly losing Galahad through his own foolishness, Tristan has no intention of making the same mistake again.





	Reverence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TCbook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCbook/gifts).



> This is a sequel to the fic that I wrote for #ThreeOfSwords last year [Never Let You Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13645917) ... it's probably a good idea to read that one first!

The day had finally come.

After everything that had happened, Tristan had been genuinely afraid that Galahad would change his mind. That he would decide that all of the trouble and anguish that Tristan had put him through wasn’t worth the trouble. In his heart of hearts, Tristan wouldn’t have blamed him. After everything that Tristan had put him through, it was still a source of amazement that Galahad had stayed by his side.

Mere minutes ago, he and Galahad had stood across from each other by firelight and sworn oaths to each other in the language of their forefathers, binding themselves together forever. Tristan's hands - normally rock-steady - had trembled uncontrollably and his voice had quavered, as his tongue had fumbled words that he had never thought he would get to say. By comparison, Galahad had not faltered once. He had stood, radiant in the firelight, face wreathed in smiles and bedecked in the finery that Tristan had made for him; gold bracelets, hair beads, torc and belt buckle.

Vanora had tried to insist that she help Galahad prepare for the ceremony, that if she left Tristan to do it then they would never make it to the ceremony. They had both scoffed at her, telling her that it was unnecessary and that she should have a little faith in them. Both of them had subsequently refused to make eye contact with her when they finally arrived, thus avoiding her smug look. In his defence, Tristan had been distracted at seeing Galahad bare except for the items that Tristan had created for him. Unable to resist, he had whispered his promises of love, trust, fidelity into Galahad’s skin alongside kisses as he arrayed him in the gold bracelets and torc, knotting the beads into the curls that he loved so much before they both finally managed to get dressed and make it to their bonding ceremony.

They may have been late, arriving to ribald comments from Bors as to precisely why they were late, but they had made it. It was not the big event that Arthur and Guinevere's wedding had been but that suited them. They didn't need anything more than their nearest and dearest with them to witness their vows to each other.

That had now been done. He and Galahad were bound to each other, only to be separated by death and even that would only be temporary.

As he kissed his new husband fiercely to the cheers of their brothers, feeling Galahad surge against him just as passionately, Tristan swore that he would spend the rest of his life making sure that Galahad knew just how much he was loved. He had almost lost this through his own foolishness, he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

~*~

Tristan could feel the tension leave his body once they were back in the rooms that he and Galahad shared, away from the crowds of well-wishers. While their ceremony had been private, the ensuing ceremony had been attended by many others. Tristan had appreciated their congratulations but, more than anything, he just wanted to be alone with Galahad. He was a notoriously solitary man, true, but, more than that, he simply didn't want to share Galahad. Not tonight. Thankfully, Galahad - able to read him better than anyone else, had sensed that and had made their excuses. 

There had been more comments as they had left, perhaps not as many as there would have been had Lancelot still been alive and present, but enough. Both men had simply waved them off with a laugh as they left the revellers to it and retired to their rooms. 

Dare he say it, Tristan had even felt uncharacteristically nervous as they had gone. Upon Galahad’s acceptance, his agreement to bind to Tristan, the older knight had not wasted any time and had prepared to hold the ceremony as soon as possible. Yet, while they had resumed sharing a bed, they had yet to be truly intimate with each other. Galahad hadn't verbalised it, but Tristan could see that his heart was too bruised to let Tristan bed him. Tristan hadn't questioned it. The fault was his own. He was simply content that Galahad had been willing to give him a second chance and was happy to wait as long as was necessary. Even so, he couldn't help but hope.

As it was, it would appear that the gods favoured him.

The door had barely swung shut behind them before Galahad was upon him, continuing the fierce kiss from before. While Tristan more than appreciated the sentiment, he wanted to show Galahad the reverence he deserved. Sliding his hand into Galahad’s hair, tangling his fingers in the curls, he slowed the kiss until it was languorous but no less passionate. Galahad allowed it, his mouth opening beneath Tristan’s as his hands clutched at Tristan’s shoulders, letting the older man take control.

Reversing his actions from earlier, Tristan removed each item of clothing from Galahad until his husband was bare but for the items that Tristan had made for him. Pushing Galahad across the room and down onto the bed, Tristan proceeded to worship him with hands and lips, not one single inch of skin going ignored. As he did so, Tristan came across numerous scars that hadn’t been there before Badon Hill. Scars that were there because Galahad had preferred to take missions rather than deal with an absent love. Scars that were there because of Tristan. Because Tristan had overestimated both the abilities of himself and his opponent. Scars that Galahad bore because Tristan hadn’t been there to watch his back. These he lavished with affection, imbuing every touch with apology and regret.

Tristan relished the sight of Galahad moving beneath and above him, firelight glinting off the tokens that Tristan had gifted him and casting a golden glow over his pale skin. Relished the feel of Galahad surrounding him, the sight of Galahad reaching his peak beneath him, the way that he clutched at Tristan, gasping his name and his love in breathy moans.

Tristan had been given a second chance. At life. With Galahad. He would not squander it.


End file.
